


First Night Disaster

by anythingbutplatonic



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Canon Divergent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutplatonic/pseuds/anythingbutplatonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU-ish in which Blaine gets sick on opening night of West Side Story. Sick!fic with minor angst and Klaine fluff at the end.</p><p>Originally posted on Tumblr May 21st 2013.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Night Disaster

Blaine wasn’t the type of person to get nervous. He never had been. Even when he’d done his first public performance with the Warblers, he’d been perfectly calm and composed. At least, to a great extent.

So now as he trembled violently crouched in one of the tiny stalls in the boys’ bathroom just left of the auditorium, forehead resting against the cool lip of the toilet, he knew he was in trouble.

It was opening night of McKinley’s production of  _West Side Story_  and Blaine, their lead male, was as sick as a dog.

 _This isn’t happening,_ he thought to himself.  _This isn’t happening. I am not sick_.

Another deeply unpleasant wave of nausea told him otherwise.Rachel Berry was going to kill him.

He tried to sit up a little straighter in the cramped space, wincing as he became dizzy with the action. Yep, definitely sick. It was probably the stomach bug his Mom had had just last week.

Was this his punishment for what had happened at Scandals? Was ruining opening night a penance for the  _idiot_  that he’d been?

He and Kurt had not spoken beyond exchanging the customary hello in Glee and in the hallways. It was already enough to make him feel sick with shame - did it have to be literal, too?

Blaine heard the bathroom door open and the sound of heavy boots crossed the floor to the stall next to his. The stall door slammed shut. The sound made Blaine’s head throb.

He hadn’t realised he’d made a sound out loud until a voice from the stall next door asked, “Blaine, is that you? You okay, dude?”

It was Puck.

He couldn’t muster the energy to reply to he sunk down against the wall of the stall and put his head against the enamel of the toilet again. There was a distinct shuffling sound and the noise of a toilet seat shifting and then suddenly Puck was leaning over the top of the stall, staring down at him. If he’d been in his right mind he would have made a comment about the amount of foundation he was wearing.

“Dude, you look like crap.” Puck noted - but there was a hint of concern in his voice.

“Thanks.” he muttered, before a third wave of nausea came over him. He felt uncomfortable with Puck watching him as he coughed and spluttered.

“D'you want me to get someone, or…..? He looked kind of unnerved.

Blaine mumbled something that sounded like "Don’t tell Rachel.”

“Got it, dude. The last thing you want is Berry on your ass when you’re puking.”

He seemed to deliberate this for a minute.

“Hey, what about the show?”

“Does it look like I’m doing the show to you?” Blaine asked weakly, reaching to fumble pathetically at the buttons on his shirt. He was feeling much too hot under his clothes despite the fact that he was shivering, and he used his free hand - the one that had been previously clutching the rim of the toilet - to fan at his face.

“Uh, guess not.”

“Can you leave now? It’s kind of creepy that you’re looking at me when I’m sick.”

Puck stepped down from the toilet and out of sight. Blaine heard the stall door open, and then the bathroom door. It swung shut behind Puck as he left.

His vision swam before him and his stomach churned unpleasantly. What was he supposed to do? His legs felt limp and jelly-like; his whole body felt like lead. Apart from his head, which felt as if it might float away from his shoulders at any given moment.

Blaine closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than feeling incredibly sick and the pounding in his head.

                                                  ***

Someone was pressing a cool hand to his forehead.

His thoughts trudged through his mind like sloths, slow and lumbering as he tried to see through the fog of his vision. His whole body was vibrating like a tuning fork as he realised he was curled up on the tile floor of the bathroom stall. There was something soft under his head. It felt like a sweater.

 _No, wait a minute_. He caught a wiff of lotion and hairspray and the feathery scent of face powder on the air. He burrowed his face into the soft fabric.

It smelled like Kurt. It was Kurt’s sweater.

It was Kurt’s hand on his forehead.

“Blaine?” his voice was soft, laced with concern. “Can you hear me?”

He nodded affirmative as best he could.

“Puck told me you were sick and that I’d find you in here. But when I got here….you’d fainted. You’re really warm, too.” The feather-light strokes of Kurt’s fingertips danced across his damp temple and cheek.

Blaine heard the sound of a bottle opening.

“You should try and have something to drink” he heard Kurt say, sliding an arm beneath him to gently help him sit up a little. “You’ll get dehydrated, especially if you’ve been sick like Puck said.”

Shakily, he accepted the bottle from Kurt - who was half in and half out of costume, he vaguely noticed - and put it to his lips. He took a tiny sip, not being able to swallow any more.

“Kurt, I feel really bad.” His voice came out all raspy, like he’d been eating gravel.

“I know. I sent Tina to get your Mom. She’s going to come take you home.” He rubbed his shoulder affectionately, comfortingly. Kurt had misunderstood.

“No.”

“No?”

“I feel bad…about Scandals…I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’m sorry.” His breath was coming out in short gasps, his eyes unfocused. He felt as if he might faint again.

Luckily, Kurt intercepted him and put his arms around him, bracing him against his own body.

“Don’t worry about that, Blaine. It was a mistake. I should never have insisted we go in the first place, that was  _my_ fault.  _I’m_  sorry for that. ” He kissed the top of Blaine’s head  “It’s all in the past.”

“Are you sure?” he mumbled against the fabric of Kurt’s shirt. It was soft and warm under his sweat-sticky cheek.

“I’m sure.” Kurt replied, rubbing his back in smooth, slow circles, a gesture that always helped him when he was feeling unwell.

The bathroom door opened for the third time that night. It was Tina.

“Kurt, Blaine’s mom is here to take him home. I hope you feel better soon.” She directed the last part towards Blaine with a sympathetic smile that he couldn’t see from his position curled against Kurt’s side.

“D'you want some help getting up?” Kurt asked fondly, wrapping his arms more firmly around him.

“Please.” was all Blaine could manage to say.

Carefully, Kurt used all of his strength to lift him up off the floor, taking Blaine’s arms and putting them around his waist so that he had something - or in this case, someone - to hold onto in case he keeled over.

Kurt hated it when Blaine got sick. He hated seeing him suffer, no matter how minor it may have been. He looked terrible - pale and drawn and shivering despite the flushed pink of his cheeks, the telltale sign of a fever. Rachel Berry’s wrath be damned - if he was sick, he was sick. There was nothing she or any of the others could do about it.

 _West Side Story_  would simply have to be postponed.

It put the  _Scandals_   _incident_  into perspective for Kurt. He no longer cared what had happened between them at the cheap and rather nasty bar as long as he knew that Blaine was in good hands.

As he helped Blaine into the back of his Mom’s car and slid in next to him to keep him company and to keep an eye on him, he realised that it didn’t really matter what had happened. That was then - and this was now.

“Is this a disaster?” Blaine mumbled against his shoulder as they made their way out of the McKinley parking lot.

“No, of course not. It’s not your fault you’re sick. Listen, forget about the show. You just need to concentrate on getting better, okay?”

“Okay.”

Kurt took one of Blaine’s hands in his. He lowered his voice so that his Mom wouldn’t hear.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was wrong. I just…..I panicked, and I overreacted, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“S'okay” mumbled Blaine. “I still love you.” Kurt allowed himself a smile.

“I still love you, too.”


End file.
